Wednesday, 15 January 2014

7 Days (2010)



When a parent loses a child, their grief is unimaginable, and often a parent will find their mind focussing and fixating obsessively on something else, as a coping mechanism; anything is better than facing the truth of the massive loss. This is the principle chillingly applied to Daniel Grou’s terrific horror/drama “7 Days”, which sees a father capturing Anthony Lemaire, the man who raped and murdered his eight year old daughter, taking him to a secluded cabin in the woods, and brutally torturing him for the titular seven days.

If it sounds like gruesome exploitation in the vein of Saw, Hostel, and so on, then carry on reading, because this film leaves those in the dust. It is explicit in its torture scenes, yes, but not frequently so, and it surrounds the brutal premise with fleshed out characters who feel real and react believably. It puts other films of this ilk to shame.

The father is called Bruno Hamel, played excellently by Claude Legault. He is sleeping when his daughter goes missing, and he had taken the phone off the hook so nobody could disturb him; naturally he blames himself, and he wants justice. His wife Sylvie (Fanny Mallette) also blames herself, even if she lacks the helpless determination of her husband; after all, it was their lovemaking which meant that they sent the daughter out to give party invitations on their own. The film is good at this, these little observations which accumulate in times of loss and grief and guilt. “Your daughter was being raped while you were having an orgasm!”, Bruno cruelly accuses at one point in the film.

The characters, then, are real, and they are surrounded by a film which treats them with respect. The style is formal, bordering on Hanekeian, and the entire film is shot with a certain washed-out, tired colour pallet which is dominated by greys and dark browns. It also doesn’t forget the little details, such as Bruno’s white t-shirt getting steadily more covered in blood as the film goes on, and the torture accumulates. The script is clever, filling the film with minimal dialogue and lots of quieter, more thoughtful moments (look at the dead deer which slowly decomposes outside the cabin Bruno is operating in, for example.)

There are supporting players who are the key to this film. The paedophile in question is convincingly portrayed by Martin Dubreuil, a sadistic and pathetic creation who first smiles at the camera when he is captured, and then goes through denial, a fierce confessional, and ends up taunting Bruno to bring about his death quicker. Perhaps the most important role in the film is Remy Girard playing a police officer called Herve Mercure, a weary, tired, portly figure who lost his wife six months earlier in a futile robbery, and has spent those six months obsessing over the video footage of the killing. He understands what Bruno is going through, and his efforts to find him are not to arrest him, but to save him. There are a number of well-written conversations between Bruno and Herve, in which the two reach a quiet, sad understanding of each other.

Indeed, Bruno couldn't be further from a cruel and sadistic creature driven by revenge; such archetypes belong in different, lesser films. As the film progresses, Bruno comes to see the futility of his actions, and slowly becomes wracked with guilt. One of the film’s most effective sequences sees him capturing the mother of a child who Lemaire killed because she said “that man doesn’t exist to me”, and placing her in the same room as him for a time. It cleverly signifies how Bruno is seeking validation for his sins, because it can’t come from inside himself.

And this is the kind of film it is, quietly observant, thoughtful, and very, very sad. It understands the grief and horror of a parent losing a child, and it does not judge his actions. No doubt every parent feels like Bruno does upon going through what he does. But the film also knows that violence is wrong and cannot be condoned, no matter what the circumstances are. As Bruno is asked upon his arrest at the end of the film (which isn’t a spoiler, because the film lays out pretty clearly how it is going to end from the beginning), “Do you think vengeance is the answer?” “No”.

“Do you regret what you did?”


“No.”

Monday, 13 January 2014

Last Vegas is Very Good

It’s been a hard year at the movies. We’ve had eviscerations and eyes cut out, incestuous relationships and snapped necks, babies stolen from teenage mothers, babies being taken into The Further, car crashes, two relationships breaking down, searingly brutal depictions of slavery, and worst of all, James Franco doing a Riff-Raff impression. And that was just in the films I liked.

"I'm in your dreams now"


And after all that, we are treated to this. Last Vegas is a wonderful comedy and a not-half-bad drama, that lures us in by being disposable and lightweight (but in a funny, watchable way) and then surprises us in the third act by being surprisingly touching and heartfelt (still in a funny, watchable way). It’s an ensemble film with no weak links, a buddy comedy that actually understands group dynamics, and a convincing study of lifelong friendship.

The cast is to die for. We’ve got Robert DeNiro, Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman and Kevin Kline all sharing screentime, as four buddies who go to Vegas for a bachelor party in honour of Douglas, who marrying a woman who is “around thirty”, he says, and “an infant”, as his friends say. Freeman and Kline are very willing to go, but DeNiro (whose wife died a year earlier) is reluctant. He only goes when he is reassured that Douglas won’t be there; already we have unresolved issues, which you can be certain will be resolved come the credits.

Once all the gang are in Vegas… Well, all hell doesn’t break loose, because this isn’t that kind of film. Think more a nicer Hangover, or a gentler American Pie with OAP’s. The principle joy of this film is basically watching the 60+ cast act like horny teenagers and the youth which they left so long ago. The film finds great delight in Kline’s character, who, having been given a free pass from his wife, parades around the sea of attractive twentysomethings declaring “I have a condom”.

And, indeed, this is the kind of film you would only be watchable with established actors, as so much of the films humour relies on our recognition of them as stars, and our willingness to watch these old familiar faces basically fart about in Vegas for 105 minutes. We’ve seen these actors grow old over their careers; they have earned this film. You may have noticed that I have only used the actor’s names as opposed to the character’s names; while I could type them out, to me they were Robert, Michael, Morgan and Kevin.

If this doesn’t sound too much like damning with faint praise, this is one of the nicest and well-meaning films I’ve seen. It has no agendas, no points, nothing to push and nothing to sell. It is a simple film, not especially profound, and I found this incredibly refreshing. This is a film that introduces transvestites as comic relief, and we are relieved to see that they are treated as actual people, who Kline gets to know over the course of the film. This film will go down well with the LGBT crowd.

Did I mention how funny this film is, too? There are great laughs to be had, and the one-liners come thick and fast, mainly from Kline’s character, who seems to be channelling the same crazed energy he brought to A Fish Called Wanda. If you appreciated him in that film, you will in this too.

It is often said that life is circular; we get infancy, childhood, adulthood, peak, old age, infancy, death. This film gets a real kick from poking fun at that philosophy. A fair brunt of the jokes, and other, nicer moments in this film consist of the characters highlighting how old they are, and how far they have fallen from their prime. “I am amazed my body has got this old”, says Douglas towards the end. This isn’t the most insightful of films, but, well, that seems fairly insightful to me.


Oh, and if you ever wanted to see DeNiro have one half of LMFAO stick their crotch in his face, then this is absolutely the film for you.

Sunday, 4 August 2013

Only God Forgives

I know I haven't blogged in a while, but hey, I'm blogging now. I guess I set myself a target that was too much and curtailed, but I'll try something a bit more manageable from now on.

With this in mind, yesterday I went to see the new Refn movie, Only God Forgives. It was pretty damn amazing. In fact, it's by far and away the best film I've seen this year, and the second masterpiece after Edgar Wright's The World's End.

For reasons involving me being under 18, the film being rated 18, and Devon+Cornwall Film not wanting to be shut down, I can't post my review on there- so I figured I might as well plop it here, where I have relative anonymity and I can deny everything afterwards.

Here's the review;

What a film this is! A gruelling, thrilling, beautiful and very powerful piece of absolutely gorgeous cinema that is both masterful and one of the most oppressive films I have ever seen. Much like Vithaya Pansringarm’s coldly methodical bent police officer Chang, it is merciless and takes no prisoners. This is a film that shows you the most horrific scenes of violence (that rank amongst the most affecting and nasty I’ve seen) and dares you to justify their existence in this bold, frightening vision. It is a film that overwhelms you and leaves you staggering out of the cinema in a heightened daze.

The plot in this film is thin/negligible, but films don’t always need a narrative to be gripping, and much like last years’ masterpiece The Master, this is one of those films. This is a film not about a plot, but about people, and whilst the story, regarding a mother who flies to Bangkok after her paedophilic, psychopath son is murdered, provides some kind of mechanism for the action, I found myself more and more as the film went on looking at scenes in relation to the characters- what they meant, as opposed to why they were there. This is clearly a film in which things are out of kilter, and the line between narrative and nightmare gets ever closer as it goes on, in part due to the terrifying dream sequences, and primarily due to the fact that the slight narrative itself starts to resemble a nightmare itself.

If this film sounds difficult, then don’t get me wrong, it really is, but it also a magnificently made masterwork that is scored and shot to perfection, containing a soundtrack so good you could watch this film with your eyes closed and still be gripped, and certain shots and sequences of such breath-taking beauty and power that they left me breathless. A lot of people are going to go into this expecting Drive 2 (and a lot of people are going to be very disappointed), but really this is more like Bronson, with its neon hues and shocking bursts of ultra-violence.

More than technically, however, the film is working on a deeper and more profound thematic level that I admired most of all. This is a film about mothers, sons, relationships, the nature of violence, shame and guilt. It is a cinematic challenge, and I found the way it affronted traditional notions of screen violence to be noble- the violence in this film is horrible, and it is challenging you to stay, and ultimately it makes you question why you’re watching this violence at all, much like Michael Haneke’s Funny Games, another masterpiece I greatly admire. One sequence in particular involving chopsticks had me covering my eyes. But it redeems it by being so beautiful, so rich, so heart-breaking.

The relationship between Ryan Gosling’s Julian, and Kristin Scott-Thomas’ Crystal, his mother, is at the core of the film, however, and what a troubled relationship it is indeed- this film goes sincerely Freudian as it goes on, detailing with chilling precision the nature of a mother’s power over a son, what happens when she is willing to use that to her own end, and the feelings of shame, guilt, inadequacy and powerlessness that follow in said son. Those who have criticised this film for being one-dimensional have missed vital things, in my opinion. The film contains many shots of the characters staring, impassively, but it also contains many actions, and all one needs to do is think about the impact of those actions on the other characters, and you’ll find that the film is actually a very thematically rich experience. It is about that feeling of dread that occurs when you realise that the worst possible event you could think of is about to become a reality. It is about many things. It is about people.

This film is clearly not for everyone, now much you gain from this film can be roughly dictated by how much you’re willing to analyse a film, how much you’re willing to accept screen violence and intensely sustained feelings of unease, and how much you can appreciate true craftsmanship. I did all those things and came away feeling enriched.

This is ultimately a tragic film. From the start, it is clear that the characters are all in free-fall, doomed to some truly nasty fates. But how far they fall, and what happens when they land, mark for unexpectedly moving territory. This summed up perfectly in the scenes where Chang, having just delivered his gruesome “justice”, takes to the karaoke floor to deliver his melancholic renditions of Thai pop songs in front of the devoted police force. Quite exactly what those scenes mean eludes me, but I found the juxtaposition of violence and singing thrilling, touching, horrifying and uneasy. No matter which way you slice it, this undeniable film is a magnificently made masterpiece that will no doubt endure as it slowly finds the audience it deserves. For now, it is the best film I have seen this year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah. I know loads of people are hating on this flick, but I don't know why. It's fucking incredible!



Thursday, 30 May 2013

Horror Clip Of The Day

You know the drill!

I've chosen a clip from the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre for today; the very final scene  where the woman is chased out of Leatherface's house, into the road, and all manner of carnage ensues.

The scene is absolutely terrifying, I think for two reasons- firstly, it's primal. Being scared of being chased is a fear we all have, and that fear is exploited in this scene. Secondly, the scene is so obtrusive, and really gets under your skin, making it wholly uncomfortable. A lot of this is down to the excellent use of sound in the sound design, which is loud and in your face constantly. The heat of the scene as well (reports of the heat on set are legendary) really adds to this thick atmosphere.

And then there's the final shot. We all know it. Leatherface twirling his chainsaw around. One day, I'll be able to effectively word the sheer awe and fear it makes me feel, and why. For now, all I'll say is this; of the many films I've seen in my life, it's almost definitely in my top five shots of all time.

I want to say check it out, but I know that most of you who read this will already have done. Either way, it's worth watching again. The scene alone is a mini-masterpiece.

BBFC Is The Warmest Colour

If your head hasn't been in the sand for the last week or so, then you might have heard that lesbian epic "Blue Is The Warmest Colour" has won the Grand Prix in Cannes; a victory notable because the film is an epic lesbian love story that just so happened to coincide with the passing of gay marriage (hooray!) in France. Clearly, then, one can speculate that the film won not because of the quality, but because of the political circumstances in the country at that time. Spielberg, head of the jury, has denied this, but who knows. 

Anyway, that's a different debate for a different post, that I'm not too bothered with.

What I want to talk about is what the film will be rated. In the UK where I live, for those who don't know, we have a fairly standard ratings system- U (for universal), then PG (for parental guidance), 12, 15, 18, then R-18 for porn. Those ratings roughly correspond to what you'd expect, with 18's containing the strongest violence, sex, swearing and drugs, and U and PG being for kids; 15 and 12 are pretty interchangeable. 

The ratings are assigned by the BBFC, "British Board of Film Classification", and no film can legally be distributed without a rating from them over here. This leads to a curious loophole where no film is actually banned in the UK- it can only ever be refused a certificate (where the film is considered to have the potential for harm, which I find silly but what the hell). This renders the film unreleasable and has the same effect as banning, but the newly liberal BBFC would never actually prohibit art, a sign of their progress in the last decade or so.

The reports for Blue Is The Warmest Colour all mention, at some point, the graphic and unsimulated 12 minute lesbian sex scene. I'm not a prude idiot so I have no problem with seeing such things between consenting adults on screen; in fact I think that sex as a tool in movies is vastly underused, and the films that have used it have been variable- 9 Songs was a turgid and bland mess, whereas Shortbus, which is one of the better films of the last decade, is absolutely incredible (it also contains far more sex than 9 Songs, yet seems curiously neglected in this debate. It has gay sex, blow jobs, s+m, just about everything, and yet it kind of slipped by quietly. Tangent).

Both of those films, despite containing numerous scenes of graphic and unsimulated sex, were released uncut to some considerable furore, with the left (where I align myself) praising this brave new liberalism from the censors, and the right claiming that this will mark the end of civilisation and even that this will herald a time where no woman will be able to get a part without baring all for the camera. (no, seriously. The fact that the nudity and sex in that particular film was pretty equal clearly wasn't noteworthy to that critic. But again, that's another very long post for another day- I loathe Tookey). 

Anyway, this post has been full of tangents, but I'd like to get to the point; 15 years ago, Blue Is The Warmest Colour would not have been released as an 18 by the BBFC. It would have got an R-18, legally only allowed in sex shops, and this would have frankly taken a huge dump on the chances of the film making any money in the UK. But ever since Lars Von Trier's Idioterne was released, containing a couple of seconds of a willy going into a fanny, the BBFC has been pretty lax in letting sex go by. Their criteria for this seems to be that if the sex is grounded contextually and isn't there with the primary purpose of arousing, then it's all good.

Blue Is The Warmest Colour seems to fulfil this. I'm not even slightly worried about it getting an 18 rating. It just will, very easily. I'm not sure what the point of this post is, other than to get to this eventual point. Call it my musings (I am very interested in film censorship, this won't be my last tangent). 

As a final point, this extends kinda to Trier's own Nymphomaniac, to be released at some point between the end of this year and the start of next. That film is his reported "porno", and it's almost a guarantee that unsimulated sex is on the cards. In fact, scratch that, it is a guarantee. But, I have no doubt, knowing Trier's talents, that it will also be a film heavily grounded in context. He'll almost certainly deliver a point, about female sexuality, and it will be debated for many years, but that's not here yet. For now, I can say with about 80% certainty that that film will be released uncut as well. More sex on camera. Hooray. Hooray!


(I like this picture. It works in a number of contexts)



I've Been A Busy Bee...

...a busy old bee oh I have been!

As I might have mentioned, I write for other websites than this lowly blog, and today marks the day when my first, huge, piece of writing went up on the fairly large website WhatCulture.

http://whatculture.com/film/10-awesome-movies-not-based-on-anything-that-already-existed.php

Give it a looksy! Dead pleased with myself I am, dead pleased...

Thanks a lot, bloggers!


Wednesday, 29 May 2013

Horror Clip Again

Sorry for being quieter today. It's been a busy day, and I'm literally going to crawl into bed when I'm done writing this.

I've got here a clip from Shaun Of The Dead- the bit where the jukebox plays "Don't Stop Me Now" when the zombie attacks the group.

I'm a Brit, so I guess I connect with the humour a lot, but this scene has always cracked me up because it's actually quite grotesque. A comedy of violence, if you were. But I guess that's just the infamous British humour.

Sorry. I'm not up to much analysis tonight. Watch the clip, see the film if you haven't (it's a great film), hope you enjoy it.

Peace out, cheers!